


Sweet Force, What NOW???

by thenonsenseprophet (ProfessionalCouchPotato)



Category: Actor RPF, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: I might McFrickin loose it, IT'S BULLSHIT, If I have to read about another goddamn sith plot device, Sith Artifacts (Star Wars), So I wrote this in retaliation!, my deepest apologies to George Lucas Hayden Christiensen Ewan McGreggor and God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 09:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessionalCouchPotato/pseuds/thenonsenseprophet
Summary: It's ANOTHER "they-touch-weird-artifact" fic! Yaaaaaay!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Sweet Force, What NOW???

**Author's Note:**

> (no thoughts, head empty)

It starts with a Sith artifact on a no-name backwater planet, because the author is too lazy to look up lore for actual Star Wars planets with temples on them. The mission? Top secret. The source? Master Yoda himself. The cause? Yet another secret Sepratist weapon that could end the war one way or another (dun dun duuuun). 

Oh, wait, it actually starts when the 212th and 501st are hunkered down between assaults on some backwater planet, because the author is committed to being a boring piece of turd, and there is an abandoned temple with shadowy origins that Obi-Wan just _has_ to snoop around in like the stuffy old nerd he his. Naturally, Anakin goes with him, because despite the fact that he still wants to wring the man's stupid fucking neck, part of him is just happy that he'll never have to hear the name Rako Hardeen ever agian.

Whatever, po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe, Anakin and Obi-Wan wander into the temple, get lost, find a curiously undisturbed shrine in the heart of the ruins, and take a moment to _not_ think before poking things best left undisturbed. 

"Ah, sithspit," Anakin mutters, as the high stone ceilings begin to rattle ominously and spit rubble onto their heads. With the hand not holding the latest in a long line of predictable mistakes, he unclips his lightsaber from his belt. A few steps behind him, he hears Obi-Wan sigh and follow suit.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Anakin asks, keeping an eye out for any unusual flashes of light or sudden bouts of disorientation. There is... something, because a little bit of mild shaking is _never_ the end of these encounters, but Anakin can't place it. 

"Twenty credits says it's another de-aging artifact," comes the reply, drier than a bantha's asshole at double noon.

Anakin scoffs. "You're on. No way there's that many of the things floating around."

"I would agree, but they just seem to pop into existence especially for us, sometimes."

Suspiciously quickly, and with an even more suspicious lack of structural damage to the temple, the bouts of seismic shaking taper off. Light still comes in from a gaping hole in the ceiling, and nothing about the room has visibly changed. Anakin and Obi-Wan share amused glances. 

"Pat-down," Obi-Wan says. He holds his arms out to the side and shifts his feet hip width apart while Anakin quickly and efficiently makes sure nothing has used the distraction to burrow into his sleeves or erupt from his skin. 

"Clear," Anakin calls, and they switch. 

"Password?" Obi-Wan prompts, with no small amount of irony. Anakin tries not to snicker, thinking about the incident that had led to the implementation of _that_ particular failsafe.

"Mrs. Ohnaka's muja berries. Split." They part ways and work their way around the walls of the circular room, checking for any noticeable anomalies, like, say, old bloodstains or murals of the painful past and malevolent future. Nothing appears, and they reconvene in the center of the room to jointly inspect the now-empty pedestal. Again, nothing. 

"Well," Obi-Wan says, trailing off meaningfully as he glances around the room. 

"Think we got lucky?" Anakin asks hopefully. He knows good and well that they could walk out of the temple and into an alternate reality where the war has already ended and all of the clones had married all of the Jedi, or something, but what's a little more wishful thinking at this point?

His old master shakes his head ruefully. He strokes his beard with one hand to hide his own optimistic smile and says flatly, "There is no such thing as luck, Anakin."

Still, as they make their way back to the room's single door, Anakin can't repress what feels like _excitement,_ for some reason. He tucks the irredeemably ugly Sith artifact into a pouch on his belt and retracts his lightsaber with a victorious flourish, already thinking about waving one successful retrieval message under Yoda's nose with all the gracious poise of a _true_ Jedi when-

Someone clears their throat.

Anakin and Obi-Wan spin around in tandem. Their lightsabers are already ignited as they pivot around each other to maximize their offence and solidify their defense, Obi-Wan's Soresu and Anakin's Djem So, two halves of the same warrior. They fall into position and come face to face-

-to face to face. It's themselves, standing on either side of the empty pedestal and looking like they came straight from planetfall on Coruscant.

"Oh, great," Anakin groans, sagging but not lowering his guard. "It's one of _those._ Master, you owe me-"

"Who are you, and where are you from?" Obi-Wan speaks over him smoothly, as if ignoring Anakin has ever worked. "Past? Future? Alternate timeline?"

"Maybe they're, like, Sith versions of us," Anakin muses. He shouts, "Hey, are you guys Sith?" and the doubles exchange dubious glances. Beside him, Anakin feels Obi-Wan reach out an inquisitive tendril of the Force - and feels his frustration when he calls it back.

"Nothing," he frowns. Then, projecting his voice to reach the doubles, says, "Please identify yourselves. The situation will be much easier to resolve if we all know what we're dealing with here." Across the room, the other Obi-Wan's eyebrows raise. The other Anakin opens his mouth and says,

_" wʌt ˈlæŋgwəʤ ɪz ðæt?"_

Not-Obi-Wan responds, just as nonsensically, _"aɪ hæv nəʊ aɪˈdɪə. bʌt ɪts nɒt ˈskɒtɪʃ, aɪl tɛl juː ðæt." _

Not-Anakin's eyes roll. _"səʊ... wɒt ʃʊd wiː duː?"_ He gestures pointedly to where Anakin and Obi-Wan still have their lightsabers in guard position. The doubles very conspicuously still have their clipped to their belts. 

"Do you recognize the language, Master?" Anakin asks softly. Obi-Wan reluctantly shakes his head. Not knowing probably really _peeves_ him.

"The difficult way, then," Anakin sighs. "Hey!" he yells again, and the startled gazes of the doubles snap back to him. With exaggerated slowness, Anakin disengages his lightsaber and sets it on the ground at his feet. When they just continue to watch him blankly, he jabs a meaningful finger at the hilt still hanging from his double's belt. 

At that, not-Obi-Wan visibly brightens, (his smile looking far too wide and manic on Obi-Wan's normally impassive face,) and after taking a moment to direct a stream of that same babbling, syllabic language at his companion, they both set their lightsabers at the floor in front of them. 

"Alright," Anakin nods, mostly to himself. Obi-Wan has disarmed himself as well, and has taken to glaring intently at the markings on the walls, no doubt committing everything about the location to memory. The doubles have begun whispering between themselves again. 

"Okay," he calls louder, and claps his hands together definitively. "I'm going to call for backup, and then we're going to head back to our camp. Don't worry about a thing, we'll get you back to where you belong in no time." He eyes their clothing, debating the possibility that's a pun.

"We're professionals," Obi-Wan finishes tiredly, before pulling out his camera to snap some holos. Under the curious stares of the doubles, Anakin activates his comm and braces himself for another exciting week.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no motivation to finish this, but I like to imagine that Padme and Natalie Portman are running absolutely wild on Coruscant, and Palpatine has Ian McDiarmid duct-taped in some closet lmao
> 
> Also, if you're wondering, I like to imagine that "Basic" and English are not the same thing, because the Aurebesh alphabet the Clone Wars uses is definitely not English. Hence, language barrier.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @hellomynameisalias!


End file.
